


Hold My Hand in The Dark

by Kate_Viche



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Claire is a badass girlfriend(?), F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jim does not have a good time, Jim doesn't realize he did it, Jim has PTSD, Jim was in the Darklands for a month and not two weeks, Kissing, Minor Swearing, Panic Attacks, Pls don't read if these tags trigger you, Post-Season/Series 01, The Darklands were worse than in the show, They haven't confirmed it yet, jim is depressed, post Darklands, post Jim being rescued from the Darklands, stay safe, teenagers in love, they're teenagers so like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25502983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate_Viche/pseuds/Kate_Viche
Summary: Jim is experiencing a rough night of bad memories and tough inner battles after being rescued from the Darklands. Luckily, Claire is there to calm him down and remind him that there are people who care about him.
Relationships: Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 97





	Hold My Hand in The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This was kind of a way for me to cope with some issues I've got going on now. Please, please read the tags because there are a few serious topics in this. The Darklands sucked ass in this for Jim, so he's not having a good time. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The gentle  _ tap-tap-tap _ of his fingers against his arm only added to the deafening roar of the early morning atmosphere.

Jim knew adjusting back to life in Arcadia wouldn’t be easy. He knew that he would come back home with  _ something _ , and that he wasn’t going to be the same Jim that he had been before he jumped into that portal ages ago (how long had it felt? An eternity? No, it was more than that). The jumpiness? Expected. The aversion to anyone touching him? Annoying, but again, expected.

The fear of the dark? Something he hadn’t accounted for, but he totally should have concerning the circumstances. 

The Darklands lived up to its name. It was pitch _ -black _ , and he couldn’t count the number of times he tripped on his feet or almost fell to his death when he couldn’t see two steps ahead of him. It had taken forever for his eyes to adjust to such darkness. It was dreary, and cold, and frightening. He could never tell what was going to come out at him, what was hiding in the shadows behind every boulder. 

Jim quickly learned how to listen for threats, and it became one of his most important senses. He relied on his ears to keep him safe. It helped keep him alive, but it almost drove him insane.

He hadn’t realized just how loud everything was back home. The crickets, the birds, the cats, the dogs, neighbours in their houses, distant car alarms. Even his own house made noise! It was thundering just how loud everything was. When he was in the Darklands, with nothing to keep him distracted, he got… lost in his own thoughts. In the first few days of Hell, he often daydreamed of home, of his friends and family, of his regrets and guilt. He recalls vividly how close he came to death when he had been thinking of his mom, and hadn’t been paying attention. He’d stepped on the tail of a sleeping wyrm, and ended up infuriating it. After that, he promised himself that he’d never let his guard down again, no matter the circumstances. Eventually… he began to lose sight of himself because of it.

When he was in that cage, fighting for his life day after day (not that he could tell when a day passed) it was so easy to just… slip away. He wasn’t Jim during those moments. He would hear his prison guards coming down the hall to collect him and he just… blanked. It was like a cold wash of apathy was his blanket, and this quiet trill of nothingness was his lullaby. Combined together it was like he was sleeping, and he awoke when he was tossed back into his cage, body battered and bruised and sore. It felt like a second and an eternity. 

Jim didn’t want to bring it up with anyone, but… he was scared. That time in the Darklands had messed him up, and he wasn’t sure if he was coming back from it. He distantly recalls Blinky naming the Darklands ‘Hell’, and it sure felt like it. Sometimes, when the others turn their backs and he closes his eyes, he expects to open them and re-awaken in his cell, sighing in disappointment when he realizes he had been another fever-dream. It… makes him paranoid. What if this  _ is _ a dream? When will he wake up?

Most importantly, how much longer until he breaks?

The tapping on his arm gets faster, and though Jim isn’t aware of it, he’s biting his lip so hard it's beginning to draw blood. He feels vulnerable without his armour, but he promised Blinky he would try to control the Amulet and make sure he doesn’t accidentally summon the armour without meaning to. But he feels like any second, something is going to pop out and kill him. Like this is all an elaborate trick from Gular to make Jim let his guard down; to make him feel secure and safe before brutally killing him. Gular would not make his death quick. He would slowly but surely hack Jim apart until Jim would beg for death, but Gular would never be that merciful. Gular would wait until Jim wasn’t ‘Jim’ anymore and all that was left was a useless husk. 

It’s a sudden but alarming thought; what if Jim never gives him the chance?

Though he had already slowly been losing the ability to take steady breaths, Jim finally realizes he can’t _ breathe _ . He’s trying to suck air into his lungs, but his body simply won’t obey. The sheets around his torso feel suffocating, hot and heavy and he needs them  _ off _ . His back hits something (the cell wall? Why doesn’t it feel like stone?) but he doesn’t feel any safer. His vision is blurry and blotchy, and he can barely make out what's a few feet in front of him. Why doesn’t he have his armour? Why is it so loud? Why won’t they just leave him alone? They won’t shut up, they won’t just let him die in his cell in peace.

Except… wait, wait- no. They never called him by his name.

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up to the thought before he's greedily taking in gulps of air. A few seconds, minutes pass before he can breathe at a somewhat consistent level, but he continues to keep his eyes closed; he doesn’t want to open them and have the cell wall staring back at him.

There’s that voice, too. It’s comforting, soft in a way the guards never were. It’s gentle, coaxing him back to reality one word at a time. He doesn’t know who it is, but… he leans towards the voice, his rapid inhales beginning to slow. He doesn’t want this voice to go away, he doesn’t want to be left alone again.

Jim opens his eyes, and it takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the brightened room (when had his light turned on?) He had pushed himself into the corner of his bed, sheets tossed half-hazardly onto the ground. The most important thing he notices though, is the new addition to his room.

“Claire?” he asks barely above a whisper, eyes never straying from the girl who is sitting on the edge of his bed. She’s still in her pyjamas, face expressing nothing but concern. Her hands are hanging in the air, like she had desperately wanted to lean forward and touch him, but refrained from doing so. 

Claire’s face softens, relief making her take a sharp inhale. “Hey Jim,” she says, letting her hands drop down. Jim doesn’t express it, but he really wishes she hadn’t. “How’re you feeling?”

Jim doesn’t even need to think about it. “Like I’m about to die.” It’s not a lie; his chest is still on fire from lack of air, and he’s sore, and he’s just so damn tired all the time. He wants things to go back to the way they were, before this mess. Before he was the Trollhunter, before he was a prisoner of Gular’s stupid ruling. 

Claire’s face crumbles, and for a second Jim feels guilty. In that second, Jim almost apologizes, before she steels herself and says, “I’m sorry for asking. How about we get you healed up?” Jim is about to ask what she means before she reaches forward and makes a hum of questioning. He glances down at what she wants to grab and sees exactly what she’s referring to.

His arm is puffy red, scratches piled on top of scratches. Some of them bleed through, small cuts pouring red, a stinging reminder that he’s alive. It’s disheartening to see that he hadn’t even realized he’d been hurting himself in his panic, and he can’t control the stupid pitiful sob of sorrow that escapes from his throat. 

Jim lets out a humourless chuckle. “I’m really messed up, huh?” 

Claire hums. “Maybe,” she says, taking his arms and pulling them towards her so gently he nearly cries. “But,” she adds, looking at the cuts in a way that takes his breath away. “That doesn’t mean anything bad. It just means you need some help, that’s all.” Claire has never looked at him with pity, just an understanding sort of way, something Jim greatly appreciates as of right now. “I’m gonna get some stuff for this, okay?” Suddenly, Claire’s let go of his arms and begins to stand up, getting too far away from him.

Without thinking about it, Jim has leaned forward and snatches her arm before she can leave the room. When she turns to glance back at him, he’s trying to push down the ball of panic in his chest. “Please, don’t-” He can barely say anything, air becoming thin and hard to breathe in. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Oh, Jim,” Claire whispers, sitting back down beside him. Jim is too embarrassed to look her in the face, so he just settles for rubbing his thumb across her hands. It’s a methodical task, and it's easier to focus on that instead. “Alright, I’ll stay with you. Okay? I’m right here.”

Jim watches as she makes the smallest portal with her staff, and she’s very careful about whatever she’s doing on the other side of it. Then, she closes the portal and holds a damp cloth with her hand. “I’m just going to clean these up, okay?” Jim nods his approval, and Claire begins the slow task of cleaning out the cuts he’d made. Though the pressure she makes with the cloth is the most gentle she can be, Jim still flinches in pain. Claire grimaces along with him and her voice cracks the smallest bit when she says, “Sorry, it won’t take long, I promise.”

She’s quick and methodical, and soon she’s cleaned all the cuts. She’s about to send the cloth back when she gets a good look at his face, and her face softens again. “You cut your lip,” she tuts, making another portal and washing the cloth clean. Jim’s face flushes when she gets close up to his face, one hand cupping his cheek for support while she cleans away the blood from his lip. It’s an intimate position, her crossed legs brushing against his. If Jim closes his eyes, he could almost pretend everything was okay, just for a little while. But he doesn’t want to reopen them to find all this was a dream, so he just sits there and studies Claire’s face, which wasn’t new. He often did so when he was still just a boy with a silly crush, turning away when she looked in his direction. This time, though, he was free to look into her eyes without worry. To count the smallest of freckles on her cheeks, to take in the dark circles under her eyes that she covered with make-up during the day. 

Stuck in the Darklands, it was daydreams of this that kept him going, images of Claire looking up at him with something akin to adoration. He dreamed of warm breakfasts, of feeling the sun as he drove to school. He dreamed of normalcy, where the only thing he was worried about was where he would bring his girlfriend on a date.

This, though…? This was nice. 

Finally, she’s done cleaning his lip and she tosses the used cloth back into a portal. Then, she takes out a roll of bandages. “Is it okay if I wrap these up?” she asks, unrolling the bandages. “I don’t want them to get infected.”

Jim shrugs, trying not to show his disappointment when she leans away. “I don’t mind.” With those words, Claire begins to roll the cloth around his arm, being gentle not to apply too much pressure. Jim waits for a little before he asks the question that had been bugging him; “How did you know to come?”

Claire halts a moment, before resuming. “I couldn’t sleep so I texted you.” Jim probably hadn’t heard his text alerts, stuck in his own thoughts. Claire flushes, eyes darting to him briefly before looking back down to what she was doing. “You didn’t respond and I… panicked. I had to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” Jim says, not really knowing how to react to that. “Panicked?”

Claire begins to work on the other arm. “I dunno. I keep thinking if I turn my back, suddenly you’ll disappear and I don't know where to find you, or how to get you back.” With a sigh, she finishes the other arm and sets down the roll of bandages beside her. “I was so worried while you were in the Darklands. I wanted to believe so hard that we’d get you back, but…” she inhales sharply, tightly closing her eyes. “The more time passed, the more scared I got that I’d never see you again.”

Jim had no idea that Claire was feeling like this. Claire had always been the best at hiding what she was truly feeling, so it came as no surprise that she was feeling this and he wasn’t aware of it. So easily though? It worried him. 

Taking her hands into his lap, he sighs. “I’m sorry I worried you so much.”

Claire shakes her head and rolls her eyes at him. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for this, Jim.”

Frustration riles up in his chest. “If I hadn’t gone off by myself-”

“Don’t, Jim,” Claire cuts him off. “It’s in the past. I was mad at first, but… there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Jim still feels guilty, though. He feels no regret for jumping in that portal to save Enrique, or sacrificing himself so that Enrique could be reunited with his family, but… Claire and the others had a point. They were a team, and maybe everything they’d gone through wouldn’t have happened. Maybe everything  _ he’d _ gone through would have never happened.

Maybe it's the way his face crumbles, or the way his hands tighten around hers, but Claire notices something in him has changed and she asks, “What exactly have you been thinking, Jim?”

Immediately excuses are on the tip of his tongue. “It's nothing, Claire. I just feel bad about worrying-”

“That isn’t all you’re thinking, and I’m not going to accept some stupid excuse.” Claire’s voice shakes as she speaks, and it tears Jim apart to see her like this. “I just… I want to help you, Jim. And I need to know what’s going on if I’m going to do that.”

There’s a silence that follows, one that has Jim thinking. He doesn’t want to share this part of him; the weak little boy who was so near to giving up before he had to be saved. He wants nothing more than to keep up that facade of a brave warrior who used his fear to rise up to the challenge and come out on top, of a boy who’s got everything put together. He’s never wanted to let other people see him weak, to see him at his lowest. Most of all, Jim is ashamed of how scared he is, how broken he became. Claire shouldn’t have to sit here and put back the pieces of who Jim used to be, and then become disappointed once she realized that Jim wasn’t ever coming back, not fully. 

But… there’s a sincerity in her eyes, one that brings him to tear up and desperately crave that comfort that he longed for while in the Darklands. Jim wants to break down and just… let everything out.

So, he inhales weakly and says, “When I was in the Darklands… I wanted to die.” Claire is silent, staring intently at him like nothing else in the world mattered. Something about the way she’s looking at him keeps him calm and encourages him to continue. “Gular… never really understood that humans are different from trolls. I never really thought about how painful dehydration could feel, and I was lucky that Blinky’s brother remembered that humans need water and food. It was… A bit easier to fight after that, but- They gave me so little, I was constantly hungry. I was dizzy and confused, and after a while every time I was brought in to fight, I-I blacked out. Nothing mattered anymore. Yeah, I wanted to live, but. It was so easy to just imagine what would happen if I just… didn’t care anymore.” As soon as Jim started, it was like the dam broke. Word after word follows, and Jim isn’t really thinking about what he’s saying. Soon, his room fades away and he’s reimagining the pain, his cell and his captors. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m scared that I’ll open them and be back there, and all of this was just some vivid dream. And a part of me keeps thinking that if I just… well, y’know… I won’t have to worry about it.”

Jim hasn’t registered it, but his eyes are hazy and his body is shaking much like Claire is. Her grip on his hands is painfully tight, and she’s trying desperately not to cry. She holds back a sob when his voice shakes as he adds, “Sometimes Gular would have a bunch of Gumm-Gumm soldiers beat me until I passed out. And then keep beating me. I can’t even tell you the number of times I would wake up to them standing above me until I passed out again. It… it was hell, Claire and I…” Jim has joined her in crying now, tears staining his pale face. “I don’t want to go back there again.”

“Jim? Jim I promise you, you will never go back there, okay?” Claire’s voice shakes, but she steels herself and takes deep breaths. All of a sudden, she’s intimately close, her forehead brushing against his and cupping his cheeks and wiping away his tears. With a shuddering breath, Jim can’t help but lean into the contact, relieved to finally experience that comfort he’d been longing for far too long. “You’re home now, and we will do everything in our power to keep it that way,” she laughs a broken chuckle, “even if I never let you out of my sight.” Jim laughs along with her, but there’s no joy in the way they laugh. Just two, sad teenagers trying to cope with the painful lot they were given. 

“I’m scared that I’m broken, Claire.” Jim whispers, closing his eyes to hide his shame. “I know the Trollhunter is supposed to be brave and never back down, but… I’m not like that. I nearly lost myself in the Darklands, and if I couldn’t survive that, what else can’t I handle?”

“You will never be broken,” Claire says, a sudden fire in her eyes. “I can’t begin to imagine the hell you went through, and it kills me that I wasn’t there to help you through it. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He opens his eyes again, and shakily holds onto the hands cupping his cheeks as he gives a shaky, vulnerable smile. “Promise?”

Claire smiles back. “Promise.”

Taking a few deep inhales, Jim thinks to himself… maybe, just maybe, he would be okay again. Maybe not the same, but… that’s usual, right? Everyone changes over time, even if it's for a less than ideal reason. It doesn’t have to be bad to change. And maybe Jim will be okay, but he doesn’t have to be right now. Jim just simply has to… exist. Take it day by day, and try to look forward to the future.

_ ‘And if I have people like Claire around me, maybe it won’t be too hard to get better.’ _ Somehow, someway, this amazing girl was willing to sit by him and comfort him in the middle of the night. Jim had no idea what he had ever done to deserve her, but at that moment, with Claire looking at him with that soft smile on her face, Jim felt like he couldn’t be happier. Well, he could. That was kind of the whole issue with him right now, but that wasn’t the point. The point right now was… he cared about her, and she cared about him, and that was absolutely thrilling. 

Throat suddenly dry, Jim had to close his eyes as he leaned into her touch. Just for a moment, he wanted to imagine. Imagine a life where he wasn’t in need of help, and just that slightly more confident. How he wished to live a life where the only brush with death he’d ever have was standing a little too far from the sidewalk, a life where he only lost sleep for exams and staying up to play video games with his best friend. Where he could kiss the girl he liked freely without worrying about what she’d do once he died. 

Claire could always see when he was thinking too hard, or maybe it's the way his cheeks warm under her fingertips, because she asks, “What’s going on in that head of yours now?”

The look she gives is comforting, and suddenly he’s an awkward fifteen year old again vying for her attention. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he avoids her eyes (gosh the way she looked at him made his heart flutter). How could he even begin to ask her such a thing? But… if Jim was going to try and get better, he needed to start living again. He needed to not worry about such trivial things like they would kill him. 

“I-” and though he wanted to take that risk, actually doing so was beyond terrifying. There was always that fear that she would hate him, and he’d be all alone again. It was a constant thought running around in his head, but she patiently waits for an answer, and Claire deserved someone who wanted her. “I…” Still, his heartbeat a thundering rhythm in his chest, and he can’t even look her in the eyes without feeling like he would combust. “Can I… kiss you?” Once the words are out, he releases a shaky exhale. “I just… want to feel normal again, even for a little while.”

Jim couldn’t see, but Claire’s eyes widen for a split second. He fears that she was weirded out, or something along those lines and immediately regrets his words. It comes as a surprise then, when Claire softly giggles and says, “You doof, like you even need to ask.”

It takes Jim a second to really register her lips on his, but when he does, he can’t help inhaling sharply. It’s sudden, and he didn’t really have time to prepare himself for it, but by god is it nice. When he had kissed her after leaving the Darklands… he wasn’t really thinking about it. It was like he had still been in a daze, riding on the waves of adrenaline and shock, so he hadn’t really been all ‘there’ when he had kissed her then. This? This is completely different.

His hands are shaking on hers, grip tight but wavering. He had kind of forgotten that he had bit his lip earlier, so the pressure of her own lips is slightly painful, but also pleasant in a way he couldn’t really describe. Once he had finally worn off the shock, he actively leans into her, desperately craving her touch. Reciprocating, Claire uses her hands to position his head in just the right way so that their kiss fits together perfectly. It was… it was warm, and comforting, something that Jim never thought he’d experience ever again. It’s simply intoxicating and all his thoughts begin to drift away.

So, as she begins to pull away, he can’t control the small whine and his body actively following her. Claire lets loose a near quiet chuckle and says, “I need to breathe sometime, Jim.” Something about the way her voice shakes with barely concealed huskiness despite her attempt to appear calm and poise is shell-shocking. 

Courage suddenly fuels him, and it only takes a quick, “Can I…?” and her timid nod of affirmation to capture her lips with his own again. This time, he takes into account their positioning, leaning over their crossed legs just enough to leave him annoyed. He wants  _ (no, no. He needs to have her closer, feel that she’s there, feel that she’s real and alive _ ) to bring her closer. Careful, not to startle her, he gently touches her knee. It still makes her jump a little, and she pulls back away just enough to look into his eyes. He makes sure she sees his reassuring smile before kissing her once again as she relaxes. Then, gently, he places his hands on her upper thighs to tug her towards him. 

Claire catches onto what he’s silently asking quickly, and with a startling amount of gusto slides into his lap. Though the idea had been his in the first place, it does startle him enough that he makes a quiet gasp, and what had originally been a fairly chaste (if intimate) kiss turns heavy. Claire’s arms have wrapped around his shoulders, fingers just barely grazing the hair on the nape of his neck and there’s no words to express the way it sends shivers down his spine. His hands find her waist to pull her that much closer, their torso’s pressing up against one another until there was no space left at all. It was an incredibly amazing feeling. Warm, and tender and oh so gentle. It was what he craved in the Darklands, this intimacy and warmth that he had been petrified he’d never feel.

His breath hitches a little, the warmth and feelings suddenly overwhelming. He doesn’t want to stop- he’d been longing for this for far too long, but Claire was always observant, a trait she expresses when she pulls back once again for the third time. “Jim?” she whispers, concern dripping from her voice and expression. It's a terrible look, one that sullies her flushed cheeks and slightly bruised lips. “What’s wrong?”

Briefly, oh so briefly, he considers lying. Telling her he was just a little shy but that he was alright now, could they continue again? But- no. He told himself he was going to get better, and pretending like he was okay wasn’t going to fix anything. It's an annoyance and a bitter thought, but one he can’t push away. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, guilt stirring in his chest. “It's just- a bit much right now.”

“Oh, no Jim, don’t be sorry,” Claire reassures him, leaning back enough to look at him fully. “You don’t have to apologize for not feeling okay to kiss me, you doofus.” Hearing her gently chastise him makes him feel marginally better about it, but he still feels embarrassment deep in his chest. What kind of guy refuses to kiss (his girlfriend? Are they even dating?) the girl he likes?

“I swear, I’ll feel better soon, just… not tonight,” Jim says, taking a deep inhale in. 

“It’s okay, I understand,” she says back, and that  _ smile _ she gives makes him melt. Gosh, how was he so lucky?

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” he says sincerely, laughing when she sputters and goes red. Sobering up, he holds onto the hand that had come to cup his cheek again, leaning into its warmth. “Really, I mean it, Claire. You didn’t have to help us, you didn’t have to face Angor Rot to help my mom, or fight him in Trollmarket. You didn’t have to pretend to be me for a month, or nearly drown at the bottom of the ocean for a chance to get me back. You didn’t need to calm me down in the middle of the night.” The words choke him up, especially the drowning part. After returning, they sat him down (well, more like they all huddled together, too close to be considered a simple interaction) and explained everything they did to get him back. He wanted to sweep Claire up and hide her away when she explained how they got the pieces of Kilahead bridge back, but another part of him worried that if he got too close it would just happen again. The others could sense what he was thinking and had quickly put a stop to it. A part of him was thankful. “You’re amazing, and I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Claire’s lips tremble, and he can see how much she’s trying not to cry. Finally, she inhales deeply and suddenly she’s pulling towards him, face buried in his hair and shoulders gently shaking. All he can do is wrap his arms around her waist tighter, trying to hold back the stinging in his eyes. “No Jim,” she says, voice laced with heavy emotion. “I’m lucky to have you.”

“We’re lucky to have each other,” he replies, and they wait a few moments before they both begin to chuckle.

“That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever said, and I’ve heard your one-liners.”

“Hey,” he says in indignation, a part of him somewhat glad she’s changed the topic. “Some of them are good.”

Despite the weight from the conversation lifting away, the two still stay tangled with one another, not quite wanting to let go just yet. A part of Jim knew that come morning, he would want to hide his face from the world, not wanting to show his face after such a night. Right now, though, he was perfectly content in Claire’s arms. There was warmth, and he was safe, and he felt the most relaxed he’d been in a while. 

The thought of sleep was actually inviting now; Jim could close his eyes and he’d probably fall asleep this second if he was able. Of course, there was the conundrum of Claire, who had yet to detangle herself from him. He desperately didn’t want to let go, but he also didn’t want her feeling sleep deprived tomorrow because of him.

Thankfully, before he could express these worries, Claire spoke up timidly, “I… know this is going to be weird, but- can I sleep here? Just for tonight?” Pulling back from her to confirm what she was saying, Jim was slightly surprised to see the hint of fear on Claire’s face, along with drowsiness. Her eyes flicker away from him, but her arms around his shoulders seemed to grip tighter. “I know it's weird, but I’m scared that if I go to sleep you’ll be gone. I’ll sleep on the floor, I won’t make it weird, I promise!”

Jim had made up his mind before she had even finished her sentence. “No, Claire, don’t worry. You won’t make it weird.” Feeling his cheeks tint red, he added, “Plus… I feel the same way. I’d like some company for tonight.” Tomorrow… Tomorrow they’d work on it. To fight their fears and worries and insecurities. Tonight though? They cheated. They let themselves go for once. They let themselves simply be.

All the tension in Claire’s body seems to melt away. “Okay, thank you.” There was a silence, before she piped, “Do you wanna watch some Youtube first?”

“God, please,” Jim replied as they began untangling themselves, retrieving his phone from his bedside table. “I wanna catch up on all the channels I missed while in the Darklands.”

Claire laughs, and the two barely notice how easily they gravitate towards one another at the headboard of his bed. Shoulder to shoulder, Jim and Claire lose themselves in the mindlessness of the internet. As one video becomes two, and two videos become five, they slowly begin moving closer, until her head is tucked under his chin, and they’re moments away from losing themselves to the realm of sleep. Claire momentarily protests, a small, simple attempt to convince him that she’d move to the floor. Jim simply holds her closer, losing himself to the battle of keeping his eyes open and replies, “I feel safer with you here.” That was the end of that. His phone turns itself off after an idle fifteen minutes, the two teens wrapped around one another, experiencing the best sleep they’ve had for nearly a month. Come morning, they would awake to embarrassed stutters and awkward eye-aversions, but that was a problem for future Jim and Claire.

For now, they were with one another. For now, they felt happy and safe; and that’s the most the two could ever ask for. 


End file.
